It’s now been 111 days (to be exact)
since the Preacher was released from the hospital and the solitary confinement he weathered in the covid unit. His experience and my inability to be there with him, for him, has changed our life in some crazy ways. To save you worrying about my grammar skills know in advance that I simply refuse to capitalize the name of this sinister and diabolical virus... the corona virus.
It all began the week after Thanksgiving when midway through the week the Preacher had a scratchy throat and was slightly feverish. Thanksgiving weekend had been busy and full of food, birthdays, semi final football and preaching twice that Sunday. The discomfort he felt was akin to what he had experienced with strep throat. He also had nausea that continued to increase over a couple of days. By Saturday the nausea had become so severe that he wanted to go to the ER and see about getting some type of medicine for it. They required that he be covid tested even thought the only symptom he had was the fever. Within thirty minutes the nurse stood at the door of his “room” with a paper sign that she had written covid +. She had been in the room with us getting him an IV of anti nausea meds and taking vitals prior to this, now she would even step foot inside. All of the sudden he was considered to be contagious. Mind you I had been in close contact with him the entire time and had also had no symptoms. A doctor and a “working on being a doctor” person finally came to talk to us after we had been there for about 4 hours. Their treatment plan included a narcotic (Tussionex) later I learned that this drug can kill a child if they accidentally ingest it. He was also prescribed a steroid and an albuterol inhaler. I should tell you that the Preacher has been ill only a handful of times in the 24+ years we have been married and the strongest thing he has taken is an antibiotic (except for pain medicine for dental surgery). So having this menace diagnosis and meds he has never taken before we were banished to our home for quarantine.
Hindsight is currently kicking me in the teeth. Little information was given to us about the extreme side effects of these medications and that if someone had that diagnosis how important it was for the patient to be up and moving around - not sleeping a lot. When we got home later that afternoon the Preacher began to experience shortness of breath. It seemed completely random and ironic considering he had no had anything like that prior to being in the ER. (In the ER they made us wear masks) I did not know prior to this but in reading found that the anti nausea meds they gave him via IV can cause lethargy and shortness of breath. The tussionex also causes a depressed respiratory and nervous system. The inhaler on the other hand can cause shakiness in the legs, arms, hands or feet, trembling, fast, irregular, pounding or racing heartbeat of pulse, cough and difficulty breathing. Is anyone else seeing a disaster looming?
Within about 52 hours the Preacher would begin having some serious problems with breathing. The details are etched in my mind. It was terrifying to awaken to my husband shaking and trembling unable to calm down. After an hour of foot rubbing, loads of blankets and me noticing he was blue around the mouth. (Insert freak out face) I called 911.
The Preacher spent 8 days in the hospital. Eight difficult, isolating, frustrating days. Scary days. Alone.
I would not wish this experience on my worst enemy. By the grace of God we got through it. If you are reading this know that you have to be an advocate for your family member. It’s vital. It’s life or death.
